


Hell is in Her Eyes

by MargotHarwood



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Psychological Torture, Torture, Underworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5668096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MargotHarwood/pseuds/MargotHarwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian's time in the underworld. | a 5b speculative fic. WARNING: this is *very* angsty. T/W: depictions of torture. (just a note: I don't think this will actually happen on the show... but if I was writing things this is how they'd go down).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When he comes to he’s not certain at first how long he’s been out. He starts to speak, her name just beginning to fall from his lips when he remembers.  
  
He’s dead.  
  
The place on his torso where Excalibur went through him starts to throb. His eyes snap open. He’s laying on the floor in some kind of dungeon; stone walls & a sort of centuries old wet smell lingering in the air, a few torches just bright enough to make out the vague shapes of the walls surrounding him & nothing more. All things considered, it’s really not so bad. He’s surprised.  
  
“Good morning sweet cheeks,” a man in a suit steps from the shadows smiling at him, “I’ve got to hand it to you, you’re really good at this whole ‘unconscious on the floor’ thing. I’m impressed.” Killian grimaces in the man’s direction, struggling to pull himself upright.  
  
“Oh, don’t get up on my account. Name’s Hades by the way. I’ve been waiting to chat with you for a long time.” Killian collapses against the damp stone floor, his battle to sit up lost for now.  
  
“Wish I could say it was a pleasure.” He manages to grit out. His body is radiating with pain, each breath shallow & excruciating.  
  
“Well, you know, I’ll take what I can get.” Hades laughs, “She got you real good, straight through all the good bits. Your lungs are totally kaput! That’s gonna make for a fun eternity!”  
  
He suddenly sees again the events of the past hour; Emma driving that bloody sword through him, tears in her eyes; her arms around him as he falls to the ground. The last thing he remembers is her golden hair & her red leather jacket. & the pain. He remembers the pain.  
  
Hades is crouched in front of him now, a toothy smile across his face. “Breathing not going so great is it cinnamon bun? I’m telling you, she got you straight through the lungs! A real hole-in-one!” Hades winks at him. “We’ve got an awful lot of work to do sugar tits, so lets go ahead & get started.”  
  
“Work?” he asks, confused.  
  
“Yes, work. This ain’t the Ritz Carleton baby. Welcome to hell.”  Hades spreads his arms wide gesturing to the dank space around him.  
  
“I imagined something…bigger.”  
  
“Aren’t you a little comedian!” Hades smiles, then turns suddenly serious, “we’ll beat that out of you.”  
  
“It’s torture then?” He grits his teeth, resisting the urge to curl in on himself in an effort to ease the pain of his stab wound.  
  
“Oh yes gorgeous, it’s torture.”  
  
Killian makes his best effort at a shrug. He is only marginally successful. Hades merely laughs, pressing one long pale finger into the wound between Killian’s ribs. He tries to stop himself from screaming, but fails miserably.  
  
“Yeah, we’ll see how you feel about it in a decade or so.” Standing again, Hades turns to disappear into the shadows he came from.  
  
“Well, that wasn’t so bad.” Killian mutters into the darkness.  
  
“Oh honey, we ain’t even started yet.”  
  


* * *

  
  
The most he’s been able to decipher about hell so far is that time is different here. It’s not quite stationary like in Neverland, but it’s not quite moving either. He has the sensation that he’s been dead a while, but he’s not sure exactly how long. Laying on the wet floor of his cell he imagines every possible detail of Emma’s face. Her green eyes, the way they crinkle at the corners when she smiles. Her long legs encased in those impossibly tight trousers he’d always try not to stare at while her father was nearby. Her sunlight hair. He figures if he spends an eternity dreaming of Emma Swan hell really isn’t all that bad.  
  
“Hello Captain.”  
  
It’s an impossible voice, but he hears it nonetheless. For all his dreaming, hearing Emma’s voice cuts pain through his heart. Gods he misses her.  
  
“Emma…” he starts, looking up as a vision in a red leather jacket steps into a flickering pool of torchlight. He stops as soon as he meets her eyes though. Emma’s beautiful green eyes, only there is something…wrong about them. Something not quite right.  
  
“Look at you. Right back where you belong. In jail.” She smiles sweetly at him. It’s Emma’s smile through & through, but the eyes… the eyes are all wrong.  
  
“You’re not her.” He steels himself.  
  
“I’m not?” She feigns innocence.  
  
He stares at her a while, this ghost may not be Emma, but she sure looks like her, & he would trade his very soul to see her face again.  
  
“Maybe I’m not _exactly_ her. But beggars can’t be choosers Hook, you should know that. Always begging for the scraps of my affection. Pathetic.”  
  
_It’s not her. It’s not her._ _It’s not her._ He keeps repeating to himself, but still the words hurt. She steps closer to him, kneeling only inches away. Reaching slowly toward him she caresses his face  & everywhere her fingers touch his skin burns with a cold so complete he swears he can feel it down to his very bones. He bites down on his tongue to keep from screaming. She leans close, her lips hovering directly over his ear & he can feel her breath against his flesh.  
  
“Stupid pirate. Villains don’t get happy endings.” She laughs & the sound is hollow. She holds her freezing fingers against his jaw for a few moments more before she giggles & stands to disappear into the shadows.  
  


* * *

  
He replays every time she told him she loved him over & over again in his mind. Every time she kissed him, smiled at him. That’s the Emma Swan he’ll remember, not this twisted phantom version of her. That is the women he loves.  
  
She returns what he assumes is the following day. Still unable to stand on his own he’s lost track of what little sense of time he had.  
  
“Hello beautiful.” She smiles at him. He doesn’t answer. Just watches her warily from his place curled on the floor. She paces the room slowly, considering her next move.  
  
“I’m curious, did you actually believe that someone like _me_ could possibly love a worthless one-handed pirate? Because if you did, I’ve got to tell you, you’re a lot dumber than I thought. It’s a shame, because you really are quite pretty.”  
  
“You’re not her.”  
  
“Pity the pretty ones are always so stupid.” She stops her pacing to stand above him. Arms folded over her chest she certainly looks like Emma. “You always were the second choice. Surely you must know that?” She kneels slowly in front him, caressing his forehead, jaw,  & throat. The burning so intense this time he can’t stop himself from crying out.  
  
“Why would I settle for a man who’s own father so easily replaced him?” She breathes into his ear before planting a excruciating kiss  on his temple. The pain blooms behind his eyes as he watches her leave. She is always leaving him.  
  


* * *

  
  
_Emma Swan. Emma Swan. Emma Swan._ He chants her name in his mind like a protection spell. He wills himself to remember the real Emma. The Emma who loved him back.  
  
She did love him back didn’t she? It wasn’t a dream was it?  
  


* * *

 

  
She returns again this time wearing her pink dress. His wounds are healing slowly, but each time she steps into the light of his cell he feels the cold like a vice around his heart.  
  
“I took a little looksie topside if you’re interested.” She holds perfectly still gazing down at him with nothing but cold detachment. This wasn’t the way Emma usually looked at him, was it?  
  
“It’s like you were never there. I got rid of that ridiculous house. I’m happy now I don’t have to deal with your constant brooding. Don’t have to pretend your deformity doesn’t disgust me.” She gestures to his left arm & he suddenly feels the urge to curl it under his body where she can’t see it. She reaches for him, sliding her fingers down his arm & leaving a trail of angry red marks as she circles her fingers over the scarred flesh. Spots blossom behind his eyes as the pain leaves his stomach lurching. The good thing about hell is that no one eats here, so at least his stomach is empty.  “Not even a whole man. What a joke.” She pulls him by the lapels of his coat until he is sitting upright, his back pressed against the cell wall.  
  
“How could you ever be enough for me?” she asks.  
  
& he knows he never was.  
  


* * *

  
She comes every day to chat with him. Tell him tales of her life now that she’s free of his burdens. She always strokes his cheek or his arm, or the back of his neck dragging long spines of razor sharp pain over his skin. He has no idea how long he’s been here. He tries to chant her name as a protection spell, but somehow the words get garbled in his mind. He can’t remember what real Emma’s eyes looked like. Maybe he was remembering her wrong? Maybe they always looked so hollow.  
  
“Captain, captain, captain. Did you really believe you deserved me?” She asks one day, cradling his head in her hands the pain almost enough to knock him out.  
  
“No.” He whispers back. She smiles.  
  


* * *

  
His wounds are completely healed now, but the pain still lingers. He stays curled in on himself pressed against the wall of his cell. He finds he doesn’t need to stand or ever move so he stays as still as possible, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He never was much of anything anyway.  
  
“Oh poor little Captain Hook. Always such a disappointment. Everyone he loves leaves him, he’s too disgusting to be tolerated.” She sings to him now. Songs of his failures. There are plenty of them to make tunes of, enough for centuries of singing. Her voice is sharp but still beautiful. She kisses his lips tenderly & swallows his cries of pain. It’s more than he deserves.  
  


* * *

  
“You’re nothing. Say it.” Her smile is always the same. He’d forgotten how it was possible that that smile could ever bring him warmth, it was so cold & ruthless.  
  
“I’m nothing.”  
  
“You’re less than nothing. Say it.”  
  
“I’m less than nothing.”  
  


* * *

  
His body feels stronger so he tries to avoid her touch. She sits beside him & when she reaches out to stroke his jaw he scrambles to the other side of the cell. She laughs & laughs & laughs.  
  
“Silly pirate. You can’t run from me.” She crawls across the floor, her smile seductive. She slides her fingers down his throat & into the deep V of his shirt. He tries to turn his head away.  
  
“Look at me Captain.” She orders & he does. He will always do what she asks. She leans in for a kiss.  
  


* * *

  
He can’t remember the details about her any longer. When he tries to picture her face all he sees are vague shapes. The memories of their time together, before he died, have all but faded. All he knows now is the Emma Swan who visits him in this cell.  
  


* * *

  
“Remember when you tried True Love’s Kiss on me? Wasn’t that funny? As if you would ever be worthy of true love!” She is curled beside him, every point of contact between their bodies simmering with pain. He curls into himself as much as possible. She turns to him sweetly, “say it.”  
  
“I’m nothing” he laughs.  
  
& he knows it’s true.


	2. Chapter 2

They’d been down here looking for Hook for who knew how long when they got the tip. There was a “special” part of hell reserved for Hades’ personal projects, of which Killian was apparently one. So the gang tracked down the entrance to the underworld’s version of jail conveniently located below what would have been Regina’s vault in their world.   
  
“Time moves differently here remember, who knows how long it’s been for him.” Rumple reminds her. Every time the man speaks she has to seriously resist the urge to punch him in the face, but for now he’s helping.   
  
“Yeah. I got it.”   
  
They descend down the stairs into what can only be described as a dungeon, & Emma’s heart starts to constrict at the idea of Killian being locked up down here. He parents flank her; her mother with her bow drawn & ready, her father holding his sword up to block any attack. Henry & Rumple in the middle & Regina & Robin bringing up the rear, both ready for a fight.   
  
She’s not sure what she expected from a dungeon in hell, but the silence is eerie. The only sounds their own footsteps as they make their way down the long hallway, solid wooden doors indicating cells every few feet. Emma’s heart begins to race, they are so close. She could feel it.   
  
“Last door on the left.” Regina’s voice echoes off the stone walls.   
  
Emma clutches the ring he gave her as she comes to a stop in front of the door. It is utterly unremarkable, except that the love of her life is probably behind it. She takes a deep breath as Regina steps forward.   
  
“Ok, we’ll need to figure out how it’s enchanted—“ she begins, preparing to cast a spell to open it.   
  
“Wait.” Emma is suddenly aware of a faint murmur coming from the cell, she leans in close to hear it better. It sounds like a voice. It sounds like his voice.   
  
Without thinking she reaches for the handle & the door pushes open easily. The cell is dark & it takes her eyes a moment to adjust.   
  
“Wait, it wasn’t even locked?” Regina’s voice barely registers in her brain because she sees him. She sees him & is immediately overcome with fear, because he is not alright.   
  
Killian is curled in on himself like a small child. Rocking back & forth he is whispering to himself. His hair & clothes are dirty & torn & he is covered in long red lines that look suspiciously like burns. Her mother gasps behind her.   
  
“Killian…” she steps into the cell. His eyes meet hers but instead of being full of love they are full of fear. He looks away quickly, his whispered chant becoming more fervent.   
  
“What is he saying?” David asks from the doorway.   
  
Emma steps closer & Hook barely seems to notice her. She crouches down to his level, leaning in to hear better:   
  
“I’m nothing. I’m nothing. I’m nothing.”   
  
She can’t stop the tears that push up behind her eyes from falling.   
  
“Killian, it’s ok now.” She tries to reach out to him but he screams like a wounded animal & scrambles to the far corner of the cell.   
  
“What have they done to him?” She hears her mother whisper.  
  
But she can’t think about anyone except Hook right now, he is pressing himself into the slick stone walls trying to be as small as possible endlessly chanting his mantra. She steps toward him again & he presses himself further into the corner.   
  
“Killian, it’s me. It’s Emma.” She tries to keep the panic from her voice, but she has never been so terrified in her entire life. Her pirate, her brave, stubborn, exasperating pirate is reduced to a bumbling mess on a dungeon floor & she doesn’t really know what to do about it.   
  
His eyes snap to hers, still so blue but now filled with terror & a hollow kind of emptiness she recognizes from the lost boys. He stops his chanting, studying her like he is trying to remember if he knows her face or not.   
  
“You’re not her. She would never come for me. I’m less than nothing.” he states flatly. She doesn’t even try to stop her tears from falling anymore.   
  
“Killian, I will always find you. That’s what we do! We find each other.”  She reaches for him again & this time he doesn’t have anywhere to run, though he attempts to press himself even further into the wall to avoid her touch. She rests her hand against his jaw, holding his gaze. At first he flinches, as if expecting some pain, but the fear in his eyes quickly turns to confusion.   
  
“What’s this? New game?” He asks her. It’s then she notices that the red burns on his skin are the same width as her fingers.  
  
“It’s not a game Killian, we’re here to take you home.”   
  
He laughs at that & the sound is gaunt & terrifying.   
  
“I don’t have a home.” He closes his eyes & turns his gaze toward the wall.   
  
“Killian, please!” She can’t stop herself from shouting. Tears streaming down her face she leans into him & presses a kiss to his forehead whispering, “we have to go, please, we have to go” against his skin.   
  
When she pulls away, something in his demeanor has changed. He is looking at her quizzically, his eyes sharp with a kind of recognition.   
  
“Emma—“ he stammers, as if suddenly remembering how to speak.   
  
“Yes, it’s me,” her throat grows tight with hope, “now get up, we have to get you out of here.”   
  
He looks at her for a long while, uncertain.   
  
“I…I don’t know if I can stand.” He whispers as if he is expecting her to leave him behind.   
  
“That’s ok mate, we’ve got you.” Robin & David step into the cell, helping Killian to his feet as Emma wraps her arms around him, sobbing into his throat for a few minutes as her father tries to steady Hook with one arm & pull her away with the other.   
  
“Emma, we really need to go” David says to his daughter, “Robin & I have him.”   
  
She wipes the tears from her eyes as she pulls back, pausing to stand on her toes & kiss Hook briefly on the lips. He flinches almost imperceptibly & her heart aches.   
  
“Emma, I’m—“ Killian starts to speak, starts to apologize.   
  
“It’s ok. Let’s go home.”


End file.
